On Surviving and Other Things
by Silvey M
Summary: Kree has always been good at just barely making it on her own, but when she makes the mistake of trying to find her father and gets in over her head, should she accept the help of a stranger? Or will she go from the frying pan to the fire?
1. Taverns are Excellent Places to Begin

-1A/N: You love Avatar. I love Avatar. Let's all get along, shall we?

The events in this chapter and those to follow begin about seven or eight months before the events in the first episode take place.

I've worked hard on this story, and any and all criticisms and critiques are welcome. I hope you enjoy.

And remember, kiddies: Don't drink and firebend.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Avatar: The Last Airbender_. Only the highest gods in the great pantheon of fandom, Michael and Bryan, may state such a claim and not be smote down by the great cosmic power that is Nickelodeon.

On Surviving and Other Things:

A Practical Guide

**Prologue: **

_**Taverns Are Excellent Places to Begin**_

The night was dark and damp in the dingy town, and in the center of the city the faint stench of mildew clung to the surface of the buildings and drifted on the hot, smoky air. The great pyres set up on every street corner contrasted too harshly with the dark sky, hot red and orange scarring the deep black blue with ghostly afterimages. It had rained some hours ago, turning the dirt packed streets into dead grey mud.

As the medley of shouts, insults, and poorly played music spilled out from the tavern, Kree decided two things: One, she shouldn't be anywhere _near_ here, because this place was dangerous and as a whole, Kree usually tried to avoid dangerous things whenever possible.

The reason Kree decided that the pub was dangerous was because of the town it happened to be located in--Port city Tsi Ko, an established Fire Nation base, merchant port, and colonist residence for the noble peoples of the Fire Nation since the Twenty-Second year of the Great War. The place was crawling with Fire Nation soldiers and officials, also dangerous things Kree generally liked to avoid whenever she could.

The second thing that Kree had decided was, she was crazy.

The reason Kree decided she was crazy was because despite her tried-and-true philosophy of avoiding dangerous things, she had made all haste to this Fire Nation town in a little less than a week, spent all day wandering about its dirty and crowded and unfamiliar (and dangerous!) streets looking for a tavern that looked seedy enough to allow her to enter without too much of a hassle.

_Well. Found it_, Kree thought, crouching in the shadows of the alley across the street from _The Singing Dragon_, watching the shadows of the patrons in the tavern move from behind the dirty windows. _Now what? _

Minutes ticked away and still Kree stood in the alley, hesitating. Occasionally, cold gusts of the winter wind would blow from the north, chilling her though her worn cotton tunic. She huddled closer to herself, and imagined how warm it must be in the tavern. It was almost the middle of spring, but it seemed like the winter followed her for as long as it could, just to spite her.

And still, she could not work up her nerve!

"Humph!" Kree huffed, frustrated. "So I'm crazy enough to come all the way here, but not crazy enough to go though with it? Not a chance!"

Kree had had enough shivering in the alley. With new fortitude, she grasped her traveling staff and stepped out briskly into the deserted street, making a beeline for the tavern door. . . .

. . . . Just as two Fire Nation soldiers burst out, landing in a flaming heap--nearly on top of her! Kree darted back into her alley just as quickly as the newfound fortitude she'd found a moment before crumbled.

The two soldiers, apparently immersed in a drunken brawl, hadn't noticed her. Marveling at her close call, Kree watched the soldiers, her heart pounding. But soon she became so fascinated by the soldiers' behavior her panic evaporated entirely.

Kree had seen a few firebenders in action before, and she supposed that what these two soldiers were doing could be considered firebending, or at least a spirited parody of it. Kree understood that firebending required precise movements and aggressive maneuvering. . . . Yet the battle she was currently witnessing possessed none of these qualities.

After an awkward bit of grappling on the ground, both opponents staggered back from each other, and sloppily resumed fighting stances. Kree noticed the squat fighter closest to her hiding place was swaying slightly, to the left.

The other fighter, a tall, bumbling figure in clanking armor, suddenly charged. In response, the squat fighter performed a movement with his arms that Kree suspected might have been quite impressive had the man been sober--but as he was assuredly drunk, the movement resembled little more than wild flopping of the arms. Nevertheless, the squat soldier managed to produce a burst of flame. It shot out. . .

. . . And missed his opponent by half a dozen feet.

The charging soldier dodged it anyway, and quite enthusiastically; in his haste to avoid the flame that wouldn't have hit him anyway he charged headlong into a pile of empty barrels sitting by the side of the street, and then crashed into a wall.

The soldier groaned loudly, but didn't get up.

The squat soldier gave grunt-like laugh. "Not 's tough _now_, are 'ya?" he slurred, dropping his arms. He staggered over to where his opponent had fallen, hiccupping occasionally. The squat soldier peered down at the man for a moment, muttered, "Lousy bum," and then, apparently satisfied, turned back toward the tavern door and staggered back in.

"Adults," Kree muttered wonderingly, shaking her head.

She turned her attention back towards the tavern. No one had come out to witness the brawl in the street, and as far as she could tell, no one but her had even seen it. She waited a moment, but no one came out of any of the buildings lining the street to see what the fuss had been about, no one looked out any of the windows.

"Well, if they all have aim like that when they're drunk, maybe I don't have anything to worry about after all," she said, but didn't move. Actually, Kree found the thought of going into the tavern even more daunting than before.

She'd been in taverns before--as a traveler, she found they were often the best places to gleam what one could of the local atmosphere in any town. She'd been in clean, warm taverns in friendly towns, and she'd been in dark, disgusting taverns in bitter towns.

But she'd never been in a Fire Nation tavern. She'd never even been in a Fire Nation town.

She gripped her traveling staff and shifted her weight nervously. As she did so, the leather pouch that hung from her neck swung out slightly and fell back to her chest. Kree looked down at it; she'd forgotten she was wearing it. She gently held her hand up to it and worked the soft leather around in her fingers. She looked up at the tavern again.

Come to think of it, it was what she had overheard in a tavern that had brought her all the way here, wasn't it. . .

Kree squeezed the small pouch and allowed herself to vividly remember.

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_The town of KampoLa was one of the friendliest places Kree had ever visited. Located in a small valley between two treacherous mountain passes, the town had been rural and secluded for all of its existence, having few visitors and having been far away from the conflicts of the Great War. They were not completely isolated, however; news of the war passed along by the occasional traveler was a much discussed topic among the inhabitants, and even some young men would take the journey away from home to serve as soldiers. But the battles were far away and the ugliness of war was beyond their view--and the crops were doing well, as they always did._

_What did they have to complain about?_

_And when a small group of Fire Nation soldiers came upon them one day and declared their town property of the Fire Nation--that didn't really bother them either._

_The people of KampoLa understood one thing to be true: the land was all and the land was to itself. They respected it and took what they needed from it--but balked at the idea of "ownership." They never owned the earth, who else could? The idea was laughable. _

_So they tolerated and chuckled at the young, impertinent Fire Nation captain and his small band of men--so long as they weren't prevented from tending the land and living on it like they had for hundreds of years, let anyone call it anything they wanted._

_Perhaps the Fire Nation captain had been surprised at the people's easy acceptance, Kree had wondered after being told the tale from a local townsman. Or perhaps he had been relieved not to have to use force, having so few men with which to enforce martial law, and deep in enemy territory. Kree supposed it didn't matter. The soldiers set up camp nearby the town, and left everyone there well enough alone._

_When she had first arrived and been welcomed by the locals (as well as pumped for news concerning the war), she had been amazed at how nonchalantly the villagers coexisted with their supposed enemies. But as she spent more time there, observing the kind and easy ways of the people, she almost got used to it._

_She'd acquainted herself with the local tavern owner straightaway--a burly and weathered woman named Ninyu who ran the place practically on her own. After a bit of conversation and a little clever maneuvering on Kree's part, two things came to light--Kree was in need of a temporary place to stay during her visit to KampoLa, and the barmaid was in need of an extra set of hands. It worked quite nicely after that._

_She'd spent a little over a week in KampoLa before the night it happened--rising in the morning to fresh mountain air, enjoying the countryside, working leisurely (for everything in KampoLa was done leisurely) in the tavern, absorbing the atmosphere and chatting with the locals as she bussed tables and delivered drinks. _

_That night had been a particularly lively night in the village, and, Kree was given to understand, that on lively nights the villagers would actually invite the Fire Nation soldiers for a drink and a hot meal. And then, if that weren't enough, the men would spend all the night drinking Ninyu's homemade brew, until both parties forgot there was a war going on at all, never mind that they were on opposite sides._

_So when a group of townsfolk entered the tavern at dusk with a group of five or six firebenders behind them, Kree delightedly seized the chance to observe this unparalleled phenomenon by pretending to bus and clean all the tables near where the group took their seats. _

_For the most part, Kree was severely let down. The group talked of nothing but the weather, the crops, the weather's effect on the crops, and any recent animal behavior that would indicate anything having to do with the weather or with the crops, for the entire time Kree pretended to bus tables around them. Apparently the Fire Nation troops had developed an interest in horticulture in order to better fit in with the villagers--whether from a genuine desire to get to know them out of loneliness or simply an attempt to keep their peaceful indulgence--Kree couldn't guess._

_She was almost thankful when Ninyu called her away to wash the dishes._

_Kree soon finished and peeked out from the kitchens at the strange crew of customers--purely out of curiosity--to find that Ninyu had done a very good job of supplying them with drinks, and their conversation had, from the sounds of their raised voices, taken a decidedly more interesting turn. Kree eagerly made her way back to busing the already clean tables, careful to look as casual as she could._

"_Y'see, I don't think any of us _really_ fight because we hate you, or think we're any better than you are," one very drunk Fire Nation soldier was saying. "It's just expected of us, y'see. My father," he declared, thumping his chest with his fist in a gesture of pride, "fought in the war. An' his father, an' his. So, we Qui-shin will be fightin' and fightin', my sons and their sons after."_

"_If you ever _have_ children."_

"_Yeah, you need a _woman_ for those!"_

_The table erupted with bawdy, howling laughter._

"_Go on, laugh!" the man whose name was Qui-shin cried indignantly. "Make light of it! But it won't change none. S'in our bloods, the war is, s'always will be. From all the way back. . ." Qui-shin trailed off to swig from his keg, and seemed content to leave it at that._

"_True, true," croaked one townsman. "The war's been about, out there, as long as I remember. . ."_

"_Yeah, but what's that to any of us?" asked another townsman suddenly. "I've never fought in it, and I'm almost fifty!" he declared, setting down his mug with all the force of his realization and splashing beer all over himself and the table._

_There were replies of agreement from the other townsfolk around the table; the Fire Nation soldiers that were sober enough to remember that _they _were currently fighting in the war looked uncomfortable; those who weren't heartily agreed with the townsmen._

_Then, the oldest of the group spoke up: a balding, scrawny man with a dropping mustache and crooked, drunken grin. Slurring terribly, he addressed the Fire Nation soldiers, "Ish you guys that have it rough. Fer you it's noshing but war war war from day one, and then when you're old enough, they jusht shend you off. Ship you off, jusht like, like. . ." he struggled for the word. "A package!" he said brilliantly. "Just like a package."_

_There were warmhearted mumbles of agreement from the townsmen, and even, Kree was very amused to witness, brotherly back-slapping from the more drunken of the townsfolk. But the balding drunk man wasn't done._

"_So's you fight and you fight fer your entire life, and fer what?"_

"_Not for recognition, that's for sure," muttered a middle-aged Fire Nation soldier, whom Kree suspected was the soberest of the entire lot. "It's the nobility that get all the promotions. The rest of us stay down at the bottom for life."_

"_A shame, a true shame," said a young townsman, shaking his head._

_Kree paused from stacking chairs and stopped to observe the strange band of men sharing drinks together. She was suddenly struck with how perfectly implausible what she was seeing and hearing was. She decided that nowhere else on earth could there be found anything more remarkable then these men from opposite sides of the most evil war ever known--breaking bread with one another, openly sympathizing with their enemies! Kree swore she would remember this till the end of her days._

_But then the conversation took a different turn, and Kree was startled out of her ponderings:_

"_What we fight for is greater than recognition!" a young soldier cried passionately. "We fight for our homeland! We fight for honor!"_

"_And whadayah you get fer it?" questioned the balding Earth Kingdom man. "Eh? Eh? You give 'em thirty, no, forty prime years, and whadayah you get fer it? Do they call you hero? Children learn your names in school?" He leaned over the table to look the young soldier in the eye. "Or, d'they give you. . ." he whispered, ". . . a_ medal_?" He tipped himself back into his chair, cackling hysterically._

"_I've heard it told," a dark-bearded Earth Kingdom man said suddenly, speaking over the din of the old man's laughter, "that the Fire Nation honors its soldiers at an annual ceremony. The honor a different retired battalion every year." As he leaned into the table and closer to the oil lamp that illuminated the darkness, the shadows grew to form ominous caverns under his heavy brows. _

"_This year I heard that it's the Thirty-Third."_

_At this Kree stopped pretending she was rubbing at a stubborn spot on the table she was pretending to clean. Suddenly this conversation meant more to her than any thing, any other conversation she'd ever eavesdropped on before. . ._

"_The Thirty-Third," the young Fire Nation soldier whispered reverently. Murmurs of admiration from the other Fire Nation soldiers traveled around the table._

"_Our nation's heroes," remarked Qui-shin, a lopsided look of pride on his face._

"_They were the ones to seize Kam-Bo-Shen. . ."_

"_. . . lasted only six days. . ."_

"_. . . with just three hundred men, horribly out-numbered. . ."_

"_And," the young soldier said even more reverently, "led by the Great Three of the West."_

"_The Tiger--"_

"_--The Blaze--"_

"_--And the Dragon!"_

_Even more murmurs of admiration passed around the Fire Nation soldiers, and they toasted their drinks, joined by a few of the marginally drunk townsfolk, as well as the bald man and the dark-bearded man._

_There was a brief silence filled only by the sound of throats drinking heartily, and then one soldier gave a regretful sigh. _

"_Now there's only one left," he said sadly. "The Tiger is dead, the Blaze is a traitor. Only the Dragon remains to guide our nation."_

"_And he's retired!"_

"_I've heard that they're summoning the whole battalion to Port Tsi Ko next week for the ceremony. . ."_

"_. . . Probably going to hold it in the Grand Hall of Harmony there. Or was it Grand Hall of Tranquility?"_

"_I've been there. You can not believe how huge it is."_

"_Naw, they wouldn't have it there. It's a war ceremony, for Agni's sake!"_

"_Wonder if the Dragon will be there."_

"_Why wouldn't he be?"_

"_I'd give my firstborn to meet him."_

_A snort. "Again, Qui-shin, you need a _woman_ first. . ."_

_Kree stopped listening. Her stomach was doing funny little flips and her mind was so awash with speeding thoughts she could hardly think straight. Next week. Port Tsi Ko. Thirty-Third battalion. . ._

"_Kree! If you pan on eating tonight, you better stop daydreaming and finish up now, girl! And for goodness sake, get the _other_ tables clean too, would you?"_

_The tavern woman's harsh voice jolted Kree so suddenly she jumped in the air. "Yes ma'am!" she yelped, and began to work again. _

_But all the while the solders conversation clattered about in her head, and she often caught herself cleaning the same table twice._

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Kree had left the next morning. Little less than a week later, she stood outside a tavern in the Port city Tsi Ko, and it had begun to drizzle.

She looked up at the dark wet sky, and pulled the hood of her tunic over her head. Gripping her staff, she walked through the door of the tavern and went in.


	2. When in Doubt, Ask Around

-1

**Chapter One:**

_**When in Doubt, Ask Around**_

By sundown, Pano had been working for an hour and was ready to call it a day.

A few hours later, he was wondering how he could even stand to keep the dump open any longer.

By midnight, he was seriously considering burning the place down just so he'd never have to deal with it again..

Pano Guo Li was a very stout, very blunt, and very sensible man, and wasn't one to bemoan his position in life. It wasn't in his nature. Yearning for useless things was pointless, as was complaining about what you had.

And Pano knew very well that what he had was nothing to complain about. The way he lived measured far better than how he had to get by in the past, as a foot soldier and finally a sargent in the Great and Honored Fire Nation Army. He certainly had it better than most of his patrons, without a doubt.

Pano observed that there was a fresh load of troops just off the ship tonight, rowdy and raring for good drinks and fine company. Looking at them, Pano wondered just what the Firebending academies taught these days--didn't any of these kids know what restraint was?

It was nights such as these that Pano hated, hated with a deep, dull loathing that only those with years of experience in enduring such annoyances were capable of. The soldiers just kept coming in, like he was the only one with a tavern open in all of Tsi Ko, and they drank like they'd never had alcohol in their lives, like they'd never have it again. They got too drunk. They took offence at anything, at nothing. They'd start fights.

Of all the hassles of running your own business, Pano hated this particular aspect the most. In an establishment like his, fights were at best a scuffle, easily begun and ended in moments, and at worst, possibly the closest to open warfare one could find in such an enclosed space. Pano had long ago learned that as frequently as fights occurred, it was pointless to interfere. He had even learned to appreciate the scorch marks, feeling they added a rustic touch, if nothing else.

The soldiers were really at it tonight. Shouting and singing badly, toasting and cheering. Fighting too, but surprisingly a few of them had the decency to take it outside. Not even that could cheer Pano's spirits.

_Just a few more hours till morning, kick 'em out then_, he told himself. But he kept envisioning the place in flames.

The temptation was strong, but Pano's unchanging and stubborn nature was stronger still. Half a lifetime in the army taught you nothing except for how to be in the army, and he was not having anything more to do with that. This is what he had; he would always have it, or he would have nothing.

The old goat down sitting near the corner of the bar counter ordered another refill, interrupting Pano's thoughts. He had become a regular in the past few months, to Pano's building irritation. All the chit-chat, the friendly familiarity. It took less than a week before the man had the bar counter completely to himself--the customers Pano was used to receiving generally had no patience for such pleasantries.

Pano filled his order, ignored the man's attempts at conversation, and returned to his musings, observing a group of his patrons. They were taking great swigs of ale and then spewing them out in spattering bursts, while a friend would ignite the ale as it arched through the air. Pano wished they'd get tired of this game and think of a more original way to torch the hair off their faces; he'd grown bored with it years ago when the first idiot thought it up.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, he decided, if something new would just _happen_. Anything. Just something to shake the mundane, something to get him out of this rut.

And then a little girl walked through the front door.

She was young and scrawny, and looked light enough for someone to pick her up and throw her. She pulled back her hood, and Pano got a better look at her. Her hair was short and unkempt, and her face retained a childlike cast--big eyes, small nose, pointed chin. She wore a dark-colored tunic that her small form drowned in, and she carried a thick, wooden staff with her, and a patched traveling sack hanging from her shoulder.

This wasn't the first time a minor had come wandering into his tavern. From his experience, Pano knew there were typically two kinds of kids who did so: the first kind were trouble. They were the kind who grew up too fast, felt too much or far too little, the kind that wanted trouble, and, when they couldn't find any, made it themselves.

Pano desperately hoped that his kid was one of the first kind.

She looked around nervously, and nearly jumped through her skin when a nearby soldier shouted something from behind her. _Maybe she's just wandered in, gotten lost_, Pano thought hopefully. _Maybe she'll realize she's in the wrong place, and walk right out._

She scanned the room, saw him behind the bar. She hesitated, and started to walk towards him.

Pano got a sinking feeling in his chest. As she got closer, he could tell she wasn't the first type of kid: her face was too soft looking for it, her eyes lacked the edge. He prayed she was just going to ask him for directions, but just in case he did his best to turn her back--he fixed her with a flat stare and crossed his arms.

_Please don't let this be the second type of kid. Not another one_.

As she got closer Pano could see she was uncomfortable--at six and a half feet, he _was_ an imposing figure--but then she put on a determined face and marched right up to the bar. She took a seat, dropped her sack under the stool, leant her staff against the bar counter, and stared up at him, expectantly. She didn't ask for any directions.

Pano couldn't deal with this, not tonight. He had to scare her away, do something to get rid of her; he'd deal with his conscience in the morning. Pano made his face blank and skeptical. "You're not old enough to be in a place like this, aren't you." It's wasn't a question.

"I would never dream of convincing you otherwise," she replied right away, with a friendly, unassuming smile to boot. Pano raised an eyebrow. Perhaps she wasn't as young as he thought.

He tried again. "We reserve these seats for _paying_ customers," he told her.

"Then I'll buy something," she said just as easily and calmly as before. "How about some water?" She took out a few copper pieces and placed them on the counter before him. Judging from the poor state of her clothes and her thin arms, Pano suspected that it was all the money she had in the world. The sinking feeling got suddenly much worse, but Pano would try one more time.

"There are _other_ places where you can get water," he told her, doing his best to stare her down.

It almost worked--it almost _worked--_but then she clenched her jaw, sat up straight, and looked Pano dead in the eye. "Then I'll have tea," and she gave him a small smile that plainly said, _I'm not going anywhere._

Pano blinked, impressed despite himself. Not many kids had stood up to him in the past. He felt like heaving a great sigh, but controlled himself. He grudgingly went about preparing the tea.

He grabbed a pinch of tea leaves from a jar under the counter without bothering to check what kind. He turned to the back counter where he kept his mugs and cups, unceremoniously dumped the tea leaves in a pot, and poured in some water from the large jug he kept handy. As was his habit, he cupped the small teapot between his hands, inhaled deeply--

--and boiled the water instantly. As a snake-like billow of steam wafted from the spout, the scent of jasmine filled the air.

He placed the pot and a small cup onto a tray and turned toward the girl. She looked surprised at how quickly it was done, he supposed. He poured her a small cup, ignoring how she stared at his face intently the whole time.

He set the pot down on a tea tray, and finally looked at her again; she looked steadily back.. Pano sensed there was a question hanging between them; a question he dreaded. He decided to speak before she had the chance:

"So where're you from?"

It was the most mundane question in the world, but it was one almost anyone could answer. To his surprise, her gaze slid off from his and she reached for the teacup.

"Careful, it's hot," he warned her, but too late.

She gave an exaggerated yelp of pain.. She had barely touched the cup but he had boiled the water himself; the hot cup must have practically scalded her fingertips. She shook out her hand and put her fingers to her mouth. "I think it burned me! How'd you get the water that hot? You a firebender or something?"

He stared, surprised at the change in her--reserved, concentration to relaxed foolishness. "Yes, I am," he said, aware that this _might_ be a joke of some kind but uncomfortablely sure that it wasn't.

"Uh," she said. "Oh." She laughed, sheepishly, and Pano wondered at her oddness. "Guess that explains how you had the water boiling in like, two seconds. . ."

Pano frowned at her. How could anyone from around Tsi Ko not recognize firebending when they saw it? She _looked_ as if she were a traveler, but if that was the case, then. . .

Then just how many other cities had she searched, looking for someone to answer her question? How long had she searched? Just when did she learn about his tavern, tucked away in its decrepit little corner of Tsi Ko? Just how high were her hopes right now?

He opened his mouth to ask her when something very routine happened: a fight broke out. Pano could see it from where he stood, but the girl had her back to it so she could only hear what was going on--the crescendo of shouts and bellows, the sound of breaking glass and overturned chairs, the unmistakable _thud_ of someone being knocked to the floor.

She stiffened in her seat so fast and her eyes grew so big, it was laughable. Pano might have laughed, if he wasn't suddenly so exhausted, so disappointed to observe how painfully on-edge she was. "Kid, what're you _doing_ here?" he asked.

She frowned at his tone. He hadn't meant to sound so belittling, but he was so tired "I'm not a kid," she protested, but only with mild indignation, as though she knew she couldn't prove him wrong. "And I'm. . . looking for someone. I thought that since this was a popular place for Fire Nation soldiers, I could--"

He cut her off. "You could find someone here who could tell you where to find him?"

She tensed a bit, and then nodded. Hope sparked in her eyes.

Pano had had enough. He was tired of this, tired of the baggage that came unfairly with his job, and he didn't need this kid looking at him like he was some good guy, like he was her savior. It was always too much.

"Nobody here is going to help you find your boyfriend," he told her flatly. "If you miss him, write him a letter. If he doesn't write back, then move on."

She looked shocked, then offended. "I don't have a boyfriend," she told him angrily, as if he had broken a serious taboo to even suggest such a thing. "I'm looking for my father."

Inwardly, Pano cursed. Of course she was. His suspicions were confirmed; she was the second kind of kid. The kind who stopped getting letters from the front for a while and got scared. The kind of kid who couldn't take the silence, so they went hunting for answers. This time, Pano didn't suppress his suffering sigh. "Look, kid, _go home_," he advised her wearily. He turned around and started to walk away.

"Wha--hey, wait!"

"I wouldn't help you even if I could, kid." He was headed for the back alley where he could shut his eyes for a moment, and shut out the rest of the world as well. He didn't slow down as he waved a dismissive hand in her direction. "I'm sure your poppa is fine. The best thing you can do for him is to go home to your momma and--"

"My mother is dead," she said. "I haven't had a home in years."

That stopped him in his tracks.

Pano really wasn't the disagreeable, sour old man he tried to pass himself off as. He just had the sensibility of not liking people, a condition that only increased in strength from years of living under his father, from years of serving the same kind of men in the army, and finally from serving loud-mouthed and irritating customers.

Given the chance he could insult or ignore anyone, from the Grand Governor of Tsi Ko to that old goat down the bar--but he never could get the hang of doing the same to children, not without guilt. Especially orphans.

As if they could sense this weakness, more children came into his tavern every year, each one of them having heard rumors his tavern, each one of them trying to find reassurance, proof, anything, _just anything_, that their fathers, brothers, uncles, cousins, friends--were alright, were coming home, were anything but dead. And it fell to Pano to crush their hopes.

He had, in the past, when he was far younger and far, far more foolish, attempted to help anyone who asked it of him. He grilled every single soldier who came for a drink, walked the town and kept an ear out for any word at all. . . and then slowly realized that what he was trying to do was impossible. A losing battle.

To be fair, though, sometimes news would miraculously fall right into his lap--news of death.

It was a big world, a big war. And he would wonder at it, furiously, how those who could do nothing would come to him, thinking he would know, he could help, when he was the most helpless of all before them; but he would even more furiously agonize over how he couldn't help them, as if it was his own failing, how no one could help anyone--a world failing itself. How far the world had sunk--it must have been a better place, before the war. At least it must have been a place with fewer orphans.

He ran a tavern; a popular spot for Fire Nation soldiers, yes, but he wasn't running a charity service. Perhaps if he was, he could help a few. But he'd learned long ago that he could never help them _all_.

Pano knew he shouldn't, but he turned around. The girl looked desperate but she wasn't giving an inch, the light gleamed sharply in her eyes.

She said, "All my life, this is the first time I've ever had anything to go on. This is the first time I've ever had the chance of finding him." Her voice was steady and calm, and she looked unwaveringly into his eyes.

Pano had had a mother for the first seven years of his life before she passed away from illness, and had had a father until the day he turned nineteen, when he got the letter from the capital informing of his father's passing. It had not bothered him much, not then. Pano had been an orphan in spirit long before his excuse of a father died; he was no stranger to the isolation, the heavy understanding of knowing that you are completely on your own, lacking any illusion that someone would be there to protect you.

It was something he was usually able to see in the other children that came, almost right away, but something about this girl hid it, or took attention away from it--there, now he saw it, the way she stood. Shoulders drawn in slightly, back straight, the tilt of the jaw--this was a girl used to standing on her own because there was no one to stand with her.

Pano looked in her eyes from where he was standing, and it seemed as if she recognized something in him as well; the stone in her face softened, eyes brightened. She swallowed. "C'mon," she asked pleadingly, and he almost missed it over the noise of the tavern. "I've never tried looking for him before because there was never anything to look for. But there's a chance now. If you just, know anything. . ."

Pano forgot himself for a moment and took a step towards her; he stopped almost immediately. An orphan. . . He really hated nights like this.

There was a woman that Pano knew of in the center of the city. Her name was Fon Li, and she ran a charity house that was an orphanage as well as a food pantry for the poor. She was the widow of a war buddy of his, which is how he met her over thirty years ago, when he came to deliver her husband's last letter.

"He wrote about you," _she said, after she had taken the letter. Her manner was calm and reserved, her bones small and delicate, her eyes dark. She didn't open the letter while he was there, but they both knew what it said. _"He would always write what a good man you were."

_Pano hadn't known what to say. _"I'm sorry," _he had said, when nothing else came. _

Pano turned away all hopeful children, but he sent the orphans to Fon Li. She knew better what to do for them than he did. She kept a clean house, warm beds, real food. She was the one who could help. She was the miracle worker, not him.

Pano considered the girl before him. He sighed. "You may not like what you find out, kid," he warned her. "If your father's been fighting in the war all this time and you never heard from him, there might be a reason for that."

She shook her head. "No, it's not like that. I'm not really. . ." she trailed off, glanced away, and then looked back at him, eyes almost apologetic. "My father was a soldier, but he didn't leave my mom and me to go back to war. He just left. He just walked out on us."

That was a new one for Pano. His surprise must have showed on his face, because she went on:

"That's why I think there might be a chance he's alive," she told him earnestly. "Because he wouldn't write to us, and he wouldn't have known when my mom died, either. I don't have any reason to think he's dead."

Pano couldn't say anything. He felt out of his depth. He knew what it was to have a father who was less than what a father should be; he was wondering why her face betrayed no anger, no resentment.

"When did he leave?" he asked thoughtlessly. It was something to ask, something to say.

She hesitated a moment before answering. "When I was four," she said. "My mom died really soon after that. I don't even remember what he looked like, or his name."

Pano balked. "When you were _four_?" he asked, disbelieving. "What have you been doing all this time?"

"It's not like I've been completely alone since then," she amended quickly. "I found homes when I was younger, but they never stuck."

"What do you mean, you don't remember his name or what he looks like?" Pano asked incredulously as the girl sat back down at the bar, certain that this would puncture a hole in her story. "How is it you think you can find him, without a name or a face to go by?"

The girl said nothing, and merely reached behind her neck and pulled from around it a cord of twine, with a leather pouch hanging from it. "It's the only thing I have of his," she said as way of explanation, and opened the pouch and spilt its contents onto the counter.

It was a folded piece of faded red cloth. Pano moved closer to the bar counter and picked it up to look at it and found that it was heavier than it should have been; he started to unfold it and something fell out, clattering on the counter. A silver ring.

"That was my mother's," she said quietly. "He made it for her."

She was staring at the ring, eyes dark. Pano make himself turn back to the cloth and unfolded it all the way. There was something embroidered on it. He read aloud in a stony voice: "Thirty-Third battalion." Pano said nothing else but the both of them knew what was embroidered below the characters--a snarling tiger's head, a golden plume of stylized flame, and a winding dragon.

It was like a kick to the stomach. A powerful one. Pano looked up at her solemnly. "Where did you hear about the Honor Ceremony?"

A worried look came to the back of her eyes, like a kid about to let on they've been snooping where they shouldn't have. "In a town called KamoLa, about a week ago. It's kind of far off."

"Never heard of it."

"A lot of people haven't. It's nice there. It has some Fire Nation soldiers; I heard it from them."

He set the cloth back down on the table. "Kid, do you know anything about the Thirty-Third?"

Her face was the perfect portrait of solemnity. She shook her head, and prepared herself, as if she had sensed that what Pano had to say wouldn't be good.

"The Thirty-Third is honored because of its sacrifice to the war. Three hundred tried to storm Kam Bo Shen, then perhaps one of the last few strongholds of the Earth Kingdom besides Ba Sing Se and Omashu, _and they succeeded._ Do you have any idea how many lives were lost in that battle? Do you have any idea how many of the Thirty-Third even _survived_?"

She looked at him, sharply, one eyebrow cocked. "I know my dad did. That was before I was born. If he was a member, then he had to of survived to have me, didn't he?"

Pano frowned, disappointed, and a little irked that she had lied about knowing about the Thirty-Third. This would make it harder to discourage her, make it harder for him to get her to agree to se Fon Li.

The girl's eyes flashed suspiciously and her had darted out and snatched the cloth from Pano's hands with deft, nimble fingers. "You're trying to make me think he's dead." Her eyes were hard and as bright as a knife, her voice heated. "You're trying to get me to give up and you're being sneaky about it. I thought you might help; but if you're not going to tell me anything after all, then you could at least be upfront with it."

Under her glare, for the first time in many years, Pano felt a small, hot pang of shame. "I am trying to help you," he told her, fighting it. "I--I don't know why I lied. Sometimes it's easier to lie to. . ." _children_, he had been about to say. _To make them do what's best for them._

Her face had gone still, and Pano felt his lined forehead draw in a heavy frown, his shame doubled. He sighed, and let it go. "I am . . . sorry. I'm so used to having kids come in here, and. . . But it's no excuse. I'm sorry, but you won't find your father. The war is as big as the world. And. . . you don't even have a name to go by. It's hopeless. I've tried before.

"Besides, he doesn't sound like he's worth finding, if you ask me. It would be best if you forget him. Trust me, I know."

Pano didn't know why he said that last part. But he was relieved to see that her face held no more anger--then he realized that she looked bleak and diminished, and felt worse.

"But. . . what am I supposed to do?"

This was a question Pano could answer, and he did it as gently as he could. He told her about Fon Li's organization, how it could help her move on.

When he was finished, she looked at him skeptically. "I don't think it would work for me," she said.

Pano was persistent. "It will. You know your mother's name, right? That will be enough to entitle you to a little pension. And if you can prove you're a daughter of a member of the Thirty-Third, then you can get some real help, beyond what the system here usually allows. Enough money to set you up with an apprenticeship, maybe schooling, even."

She looked dubious. She leaned back into her chair, frowning, not meeting his eyes.

Pano hesitated, saw the tension in her hunched shoulders and the worn look in her eyes and made up his mind. He leaned towards her, elbows on the countertop. "If you're worried they won't believe you, I'll vouch for you. We can go right now."

She looked up, genuine surprise on her face. Pano was even more surprised. Hadn't he vowed to never stick his neck out again?

Her expression changed to one of gratitude. "You're a very kind person," she said.

Pano paused and drew back, disquieted at her reaction. One minute he thought he was speaking to a child, the next, he might have been talking to someone twice her age. There was a jaded look in her eyes that was far too mature, familiar. . . He frowned, trying to remember.

Then it hit him: it was Fon Li, the day when he came to tell her that her husband was dead, only to see that she had somehow known it, and known it before he had even left for the war. A gaze that betrayed an understanding that the world was set against them, that knew why husbands and mothers died and fathers disappeared and that no one would care enough to help, that knew they were doomed.

Them against the world. This is the way it was for them, just the way life worked.

"Why not?" Pano asked anyway. He was a stubborn man.

She picked up her teacup. By now it must have been stone cold. "Because." She gazed into the dregs at the bottom of the cup for a long time. Then she looked up very carefully, as if measuring him up. "I'm not Fire Nation," she said.

"My mother wasn't Fire Nation. She lived in a fishing village in the Earth Kingdom. I think my father must have been in a ship wreck and she must have found him, and healed him . . . I don't know how it happened for sure, but he was definitely a firebender, and he got there somehow.

"I don't know why he left us when he did. He stayed with us all that time. But he went back to the army, or at least to the Fire Nation. And he didn't take us with him--having a family with a woman of the enemy nation wouldn't be--it would be a crime. Right?"

Pano didn't know what to say to that, either. She looked back down into her cup. "I've never told anybody that before," she mumbled. "But, you've got to take a chance, sometimes. . . ."

The gravity of what she told him pressed down on him heavily. "No, you were right not to tell anyone before," Pano said slowly. "It wouldn't be safe to mention that to anyone here. Don't do it again."

They both fell silent.

Suddenly, Pano was aware of the noise of the tavern again. It all came back, rushing about them in a dull roar. Something out of sight was burning, he could smell it.

"So," he said, stupidly. "So."

She looked up again. Pano hurriedly cleared his throat. It was hard to believe that this diminished girl had been the same one to smile so broadly at him when she had asked him if he was a firebender.

"You got a name, kid?"

She bit her lip a bit, then smiled slightly. "Kree," she said.

Pano knew it was useless, but he tried to search his memory. After a while, he gave up. "Kree. Doesn't ring any bells."

Kree blinked. "Hm?"

Pano looked at her confused expression and surprised himself: he smiled. "Allow me to introduce myself," Pano said, thoroughly carried away. He bowed a bit behind the bar counter. "Sergeant Pano Gou Li, former member of the Thirty-Third battalion."

Caught off guard, the girl's jaw indignantly dropped open. Before he could stop himself, Pano found himself chuckling, which gave way to great, heaving laughter.

The girl was stunned into silence, and too late Pano realized that he could have done something horrible--but, luckily the delight of the discovery overpowered the considerable resentment she felt, and she babbled, trying not to smile. "The whole time. . . ! And you. . . !"

"Forgive. . . me," he apologized as he wheezed, trying to catch his breath. Pano could not for the life of him remember the last time he had laughed so hard, or explain what it that had set him off. But then the girl started to giggle, and her eyes squinted up in such a lighthearted way that Pano felt his spirits lift and the unstoppable laughter forced its way out. Soon it was as if they were old friends, or a genial uncle with his favorite niece, and Pano still couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this hard at nothing in particular, not since he was a kid, so so long ago. . .

"I still can't believe it. . . Oh, I forgive you," she gasped cheerfully after several long moments of laughter, supporting herself with both arms on the counter. She wiped at her eyes and smiled happily at him, all high spirits. "You can make it up to me by taking me to the honor ceremony, so I can find my dad."

And that knocked all the good humor out of Pano.

She looked at him with a crooked grin still clinging to her face, her eyes wondering why he'd suddenly stopped smiling.

Pano had made a foolish error--he should have never have mentioned his former rank, or smiled, or laughed, or tried to cheer her up, or have done anything to give her hope, or have even let her in in the first place.

"Just because I used to be a Thirty-Third doesn't mean I can help you, Kree."

"But. . . But you can!" she exclaimed. "You can help me more than anyone else! Think about it," she implored as he begin to shake his head. "Of all the taverns in this town I could've walked into, I walk into the one where I meet you, a member of the same battalion as my father was! You could--"

"_No_, Kree," he said, cutting her off abruptly.

"Why not?"

"I'm not with the army anymore," Pano told her. "I got a superior to get me an honorable discharge for an imaginary injury. I swore off the army, I'm having nothing to do with it."

Pano wished his voice wasn't so rough. She opened her mouth to say something, faltered. Then, she timidly asked, "What if you just tell me where it's being held tomorrow night? A grand hall somewhere, right? I can go myself if you just let me know where it is."

He had to raise an eyebrow at this. "You're saying you'll walk in on one of the most prestigious ceremonies of the Fire Nation, among bad-tempered Fire Nation high officials, soldiers, and generals, in the hopes of finding one man whom you haven't seen in years, a man who in all likelihood is not even going to be present, completely on your own?"

"Well. . . _yeah_," she replied, a bit defensively. Pano examined her face. He didn't detect any doubt in her expression, and he felt an unpleasant chill down to his bones. Only the young and the fools were this certain of themselves, or so the saying went.

"Why do you hate the army so much, anyway? You're Fire Nation," she demanded, still stinging from his rebuke.

He paused for a long moment. "Let me show you," he said.

He rolled up the right sleeve of his shirt all the way up to his shoulder. He turned his body so she could see what was carved into his skin by an army needle and ink: Pano Gou Li, Sergeant. Thirty-Third.

Pano rolled the sleeve down again. "This is no mark of pride," Pano said to her. "Our battalion was ordered to storm Kam Bo Shen, with meager supplies and no backup. They didn't expect us to win, Kree--they expected us to die. They told us this. They wanted to sacrifice us, told us to fight till our deaths, destroy as much as we could. Then other battalions would come before the enemy could recover and finish off the rest. If it wasn't for our commanders' determination to keep as many of us alive as they could, we would have all died on the first day. But some of us survived.

"They offered every man in the battalion one of these--" he gestured to his tattoo-- "--free of charge. So the bodies could be identified when it was over. We were to have hero's graves, they told us. Our families would be well compensated. Or, if we refused to do our duty. . . Life would get very hard for them, they said. Very dangerous, without us home to protect them.

"I didn't have a family then, or now. I got one because I knew that if I survived, I would have to wear this mark on me forever. The things I saw there, Kree, were so horrible that if I didn't have the tattoo to remind me then my mind would have shut it out, so I wouldn't have to live with it. I have to remember what I did. What I was made to do."

The girl, Kree, was silent. Her eyes were wide, her face pale. His words had shook her, and Pano noticed her hand gripping at the patch of tunic over her heart. But something in her understood. When others had noticed his obvious lack of support for his Nation's military and asked him why, none had responded with the same steadiness that shone in the girl's eyes. It was a gaze that wouldn't break away, not because of guilt or pity or discomfort or loathing.

"Oh," she said.

Moments went by as they looked at each other, not knowing what else to do. Pano knew enough not to look away for the sake of looking away, even though his heart hung heavy. She looked back, slowly becoming more serene. She gave a small, painful smile. Pano felt as if his throat were stretched as thin as that smile.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know. . . I didn't realize. . . I understand why you wouldn't want to go." She took great care to set the teacup back in the very center of the tea tray. She hadn't drunk a drop. She started to step off the stool, eyes cast down.

"Kree," Pano found himself saying. She stopped. "If you don't mind, can I ask you a personal question now?"

The strange bond of trust that Pano had felt between them was absent--and that's how he knew there had even been a trust between them at all, because suddenly he had her smiling, laughing face in his memory to compare to the steady, grim tension gathering in the base of her neck, behind her eyes. It had been a tiny connection, a sense of trust and mirth strangers could rarely share, a mutual agreement to let down their guard from the rest of the unfeeling world and laugh openly because they needed to, and now it was gone, they were strangers again, laughter all but forgotten.

He had been the one to betray that bond; it had meant something, something important. He had to rectify this.

He pulled a spare stool from under his side of the bar and sat down, so he was squarely at her eye level. It was all he could think to do and it worked; it was as if somehow this giant had put aside his height so that they might be as equals.

". . . Yeah?" Kree prompted Pano when he remained silent. He'd been wondering if this would be the question to drive her out the door and then he'd been struck with the irony of him being concerned over this when earlier in the night he would have been grateful if it had.

"From what it seems to me," he finally began, cautiously, "this man you've been looking for hasn't been the best father. Curiosity aside, just what are your reasons for trying to find him?" He made the effort to smile. "If I can say so, you strike me as an intelligent girl. I'd think you'd know better than to intentionally seek out something that would only bring you pain."

". . . Uh-huh," she agreed, averting her eyes. She fell silent, but Pano knew enough about people to know that she would continue. He waited.

Finally she looked up at him.

"Ever since I could remember, I've had these loose ends in my head," she told him. "Everywhere I go, they follow me. They trail behind me in the dirt, they trip me up. They've got names like 'what is my father doing now' and 'what would happen if we ever saw each other again' and the biggest, longest loose end that trips me up the most is called, 'would we have anything to say to each other, anything to offer one another if we ever meet?'"

She fell silent again. Pano waited.

"What I'm trying to say is," she tried again, "is that I'm tried of carrying those loose ends with me where ever I go. I'm not a kid anymore; it's time I grow out of them. But I can't, not until I tie them off. I've just got to get it over with. Even if it is painful."

Pano opened his mouth but before he even knew what he was going to say there came an ear-splitting crash--he looked away, blinking in confusion at the hysteria that had seemed to completely consume his tavern.

"Looks like you've got a busy night ahead of you," the girl solemnly remarked a few minutes later as they both observed a huge drunken brawl that involved half the tavern's customers.

"Those morons," Pano muttered angrily. "They'll bring the roof down on our heads at this rate."

Kree slid down from her bar stool. "Thanks for selling me the tea," she said, beginning to collect her staff. "I'm sorry I didn't drink it, but then I don't really like tea that much. I just bought it so you'd have to let me stay."

Pano was beginning to feel powerless. "Kree, just what is it that you're going to do?"

She turned toward him and shrugged, and flashed him a small, determined grin that didn't match her eyes. "I'm still going to look for him. I'll find a way to get into the ceremony somehow--I'm good at getting into places I'm not supposed to be."

Pano's mouth went dry. _She really would, too_, he thought, and he didn't know how he knew that but he knew it was true.

"Thank you for talking with me, Mr. Pano," she said, face empty. She smiled again, gave a small bow and turned away. She started to nimbly pick her way through the crowd, but it was slow going.

Pano couldn't remember the last time he felt this desperate, this anxious. He realized that later he would look back on this and either curse his foolishness or smile ironically, he didn't know which--"Kree, wait," he called out to her, and prepared for defeat.

He made sure she turned around and looked at him curiously before sighing one last time. "You'd better have something nicer looking than what you've got on right now," he said without smiling. "Because I refuse to be seen with such a shabbily dressed runt at the Honor Ceremony tomorrow night."

She looked stunned. To Pano's amusement, she actually leant on her staff to keep herself standing upright.

Pano supposed he was just as surprised--then she smiled. She really, really smiled, a bright, exultant, abandoned smile that only a child was capable of. She walked shakily towards the counter.

"Thank you, Mr. Pano," she said, voice trembling only slightly with joy.

"Just Pano," he replied somewhat stiffly after a silence, his voice becoming gruff without his meaning it to. The girl merely gazed at him admiringly. Awkwardly, he turned his attention to the rest of the bar. Now almost everyone in the bar was fighting--the noise was practically deafening.

"I'm going to close down for the night. We're going to need some rest for tomorrow," he decided, raising his voice for her to hear him over the din.

"You mean today," Kree said, grinning.

Pano had to stop himself from swearing aloud when he realized she was right. It was going to be dawn in an hour--this had been the longest night he'd ever pulled. He shook his head wonderingly.

He turned his attention back towards the fight. He realized ironically that he just might end up burning the place down tonight after all, this was a fight he'd need firebending to end it with; but if that was the case then he'd sooner have Kree out of the way, where she wouldn't get hurt. He turned to her and said, "I'm going to break it up and get these guys out of here. Why don't you duck outside for a bit? There's an alley in the back where no one will bother you. It could get dicey in here."

"I see what you mean," she cheerfully agreed, her eyes following the path of an unfortunate soldier as he was launched into the air and smashed into the opposite wall.

"Second door on the left." Pano could still not believe he was doing this.

"Thanks, Pano. I mean, really. Thanks."

"Hurry it up, kid, I don't have all day."

She scampered off behind the bar counter and down the back hall, a spring in her step. Pano wondered where she drew the energy from.

"That was unusual of you."

He glanced down towards the end of the bar to the one man not fighting. "And how would you know, you old goat? You've only been here a month or so."

"You wound me, Pano. Have you forgotten how far back the both of us go?"

"Obviously not, if you were listening. And I know you were, it would be just like you."

"I've seen you at your harshest, Pano, and at your friendliest, but never have I seen this sort of compassion."

"Hurry up with your drink, old man. I'm closing soon."

"I am not much older than you, friend. I was merely suggesting that if you do find the tavern-running business not to your liking, than perhaps you can work in civil service. You seem to have a knack for it."

"So I can work with stubborn whelps like that everyday? Forget it."

Peals of laughter. "Perhaps it was the girl who is responsible for this change in you. Shame, I'm certain you could do quite a bit of good. And you would certainly never have to worry about repairing damages caused by drunken troops ever again."

". . . Perhaps it is something to consider."

"Warming up to the idea, are we?"

"Just drink your tea, you old goat."

"I will, old friend--and then I will assist you in breaking up this fight. Provided, of course, we discuss how we will conduct this search of yours promptly afterward."

"I wasn't planning on asking for your help, Iroh. Anyway, you'll be busier than I'll be tonight."

"I know. What you're doing sounds much more rewarding, however. Please, don't wait on me. I will not be long. . ."

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A/N: Originally this was written in 1st person format, which bothered me. So now the chapter is very, very long. . . But I really didn't want to break this chapter up in separate parts, because it was one whole conversation. I hope I've added what I thought it was missing, and kept the things that were already working.

As always, feedback is encouraged. Chapter three is coming sometime in the future, just after I stop procrastinating/stressing about SATs and college essays and get the blasted things over with. Le sigh.


	3. It is Best to Try Not to Look Suspicious

**Chapter Two:**

_**It is Best to Try Not to Look Suspicious**_

Very early in the morning in a dangerous part of town, a young girl (older than she looked) stepped out from a decaying door into a cramped and littered alley.  For a moment she just stood there between the buildings, a part of the silence of the early morning before the sun, before the people, before the noise.

Finally, Kree let out a deep sigh which turned into a yawn that she thought would never end. Sinking down against the wall, she wrapped her hands about her knees and rested her eyes. Just the course of one more day, and then. . . And then what? Unable to imagine, she opened her eyes with irritation.

Something was off. She remembered daydreaming endlessly when she was younger about her father. On how many nights alone, unable to sleep, had she spent wondering what his face looked like, if he remembered her, if he still wanted her back? How many times in her dreams did his face light with recognition when he saw her, how many times did he embrace her? She'd long ago lost count.

What she had told Pano was true, she realized suddenly. It wasn't a matter of love or forgiveness or anything like that. She wasn't looking for a father. She was looking for closure.

Kree glumly nudged a pebble with the toe of her boot. Her unwitting honesty made her uncomfortable. Going off on an impossible adventure to find one's father was the kind of thing pure-hearted youths did in the stories Kree loved, and in some ways that was how she had justified her own journey. But now, knowing that her motives were not as simple as she had tried to convince herself… it felt like a sham. It brought her out of that story she'd been trying to build, and into the dank corner of a dingy alley in the real world.

Then there was Pano to consider. She'd never planned on being as honest as she had been, not to anybody. Kree wasn't in the habit of honesty when it came too close to old wounds. She wasn't really in the habit of honesty when it came to mostly anything, when she considered it. But she had a talent for reading crowds and knowing what people wanted; she would have made a lousy drifter otherwise. Perhaps that had been why she'd told the truth to Pano and even to herself. Anything less wouldn't have worked.

The fact that Pano had agreed to help her because of Kree's honest-but-not-so-pure-hearted intentions—especially in light of what had happened to him in his past—did nothing to help her feel better about herself.

Kree gave a long-suffering sigh. A few moments of honesty and look how miserable it made her. Why did people hold it in such high regard, anyway? It was obviously overrated.

The sun was slowly coming up. Kree's eyelids felt suddenly very heavy. Unable to think of any reason to stay awake, she slowly sank down against the wall and closed her eyes.

Kree wasn't sure how long she slept. It couldn't have been for more than a few moments, because when she opened her eyes it was still before dawn, and the same chill hung in the air. And, in the strange sense of awareness that is sometimes carried back across the borders of early sleep, she sensed that she was not alone in the alley.

Looming in the entrance to the alleyway was the stout soldier who took a fall in the fight she'd seen just before entering the tavern. Kree stayed stock-still.  He gazed blearily at her for a few awkward moments. "Izzis th' way to th' ship?" he finally asked, slurring horribly.

"Probably not," Kree answered at once, her mouth working faster than her brain, as it usually did. "But, if you go around to the front, you could find somebody who could--"

WUMP. The soldier had fallen headfirst to the ground without warning.

"--help you," Kree finished, nonplused. She looked around; the alleyway and the street beyond were both deserted. No one had seen him fall.

Kree got up and walked towards him, uncertain of what to do. She stopped about three feet away from him, and squatted to get a better look at his face.  Facedown in the mud, there wasn't much for her to see, but at least, as far as she could tell, he was still breathing.

She looked around again. The smart thing would be, she reasoned, to leave him to his dirt nap. He obviously could do little else and it wasn't like there was any danger present at the moment.

Still uncertain, Kree looked down again. Taking her staff, she nudged the man gently, and when that earned no response, she nudged him harder. A grunt.

Kree sat back on her heels and looked thoughtfully at the unconscious soldier.  _This really isn't my problem,_ she thought. She was in a strange place enough as it was already, and it would be better just to leave him be. She stood up and began to turn around—

--when an unfortunate series of thoughts popped into her head.

It was small and silly, impractical as it was useless. It changed her life entirely.

The first thought was, "None of the pure-hearted youths would ever leave someone in need of help on their journeys."

The second thought was, "They would find it in their hearts to help, no matter how strange or unfamiliar the circumstances were."

The third thought was, "I am a sappy idiot who listens to way to many stories."

But it was too late; the damage was done. Kree turned and looked back at the drunken soldier, debating within. She had traveled for miles to a dangerous place and risked many things, not because she missed her father but because she wanted to stop missing him. She had made the journey not because she wanted to see her father but because she had wanted to stop wanting to see her father ever again.

She was making a kind and honest man confront his painful past so that she could abandon hers. It wasn't fair and it wasn't nice and it wasn't right. But helping someone who needed it, when there was nothing in it for her…that was.

Kree sighed. Feeling that she had somehow tricked herself, she knelt beside the soldier again, and spoke to him in a loud voice. "Listen, if you can hear me," she told him, prodding him gently in the back with her staff, "I'm just helping you out. You need to wake up, right? You can't just lay here like this."

He groaned and said something incomprehensible. He lifted his head up to reveal watery red eyes, before he lost strength and let it drop again. "That's it, that's it," Kree said, trying to sound encouraging. "Just wake up. Then you can find someone to take you back to your ship, and then you can go about your business and leave me with a nice feeling of well-being—"

The man suddenly rolled over to his back and let out one of the loudest, rankest belches Kree had ever witnessed. "Ugh!'" Kree grasped, clutching her nose. She backed up, gulping for air. "There is a limit to how selfless a person can be, you know!"

The soldier just lay there, dead to the world. "Ugh, this is useless," Kree said, giving in. She lowered her staff. "You just sleep there. Don't know why I bothered--"

"You there! Halt!"

Kree looked up, started. Two soldiers in firebender garb stood watching her from the start of the alleyway. Their skull masks hid their faces, and they carried spears.  With one controlled motion, they brought them swiftly swooshing down to point in her direction.

They started towards her as cautiously as if she were a mad dog.. "Um…I have to say, I'm very confused right now," she said nervously, eying their spears. "I haven't done anything, so--"

"Silence," one of the soldiers said as they came upon her. The glint off the brandished spears convinced Kree to hold her tongue. "Drop your weapon. Now," barked the other soldier.

"It's more of a walking stick, actually," Kree said weakly, letting her staff fall to the ground.

The soldier to her right knelt to the ground and picked up her staff. Then he eased off the helmet of the drunk solider, revealing a vivid bruise on his forehead that had been obscured. "He's unconscious, but alright. She's knocked him out cold," he said, his voice gruff.

"It was the drink that knocked him out, not me," Kree protested, surprised and alarmed at the accusation. "And he must have gotten that bruise when he fell, I just found—"

"Silence," commanded the first soldier, branding the spear threateningly. Kree backed up a few steps.

"You're coming with us," the second soldier said, standing up. He grabbed her by the arm before she could move.

"Look, this isn't necessary, is it?" Kree asked, hardly believing what was happening. "I mean, how could someone like me knock out a big guy like him?  Ow!"

Heedless of her protests, the soldiers had begun to drag her out of the alley. "Stop! Listen to me!" She cried. They pulled her along as if she wasn't saying anything at all. "I tried to help him, I didn't do anything to him!"

Both the soldiers were strong, and Kree could barely resist at all. Before she knew it she'd been dragged from the alley down a whole block of the street beyond it, where they sharply turned a corner and brought her face to face with what appeared to be a small, one-person coach. It didn't have wheels, but was the kind of coach meant to be carried by two people, with handles in front and in back. It was made of thick dark wood, and--Kree's blood froze--it had a window on the door with three bars, like a prison cell window.

"Wait!" she yelled louder, quite panicked now. "I've got a friend, back at the tavern--he'll vouch for me! You jerks are making a big mistake--"

One of the soldiers opened the door, and they roughly flung her inside.  "Quiet," one of the soldiers barked through the bars after he'd slammed the door shut. By the light coming through the sole window of the coach, Kree could see there was no handle to open the door on the inside. "The Magistrate will deal with you."

Kree didn't protest. She had a sinking feeling that words wouldn't help her now.

Suddenly the coach gave a heave and she felt herself being lifted up. Kree looked out the window to see the buildings and streets slowly pass her by.

Kree gave a weary sigh. It was quickly turning into one of those days.

A/N: Do you know how long it was since my last update? I suck so hard. My new years resolution is to write more, so….here's to not sucking quite as hard.

Anyway, pretty pleased about this chapter. And it's not 8 pages long, huzzah!

Preview: Kree attempts to fight The Man, and the appearance of everybody's favorite Dragon of the West.


	4. Always Be Polite

Hurrah! I've updated before the end of 2009! Double hurrah!

**Chapter Three:**

**Always Be Polite

* * *

  
**

Beneath the grand halls of government and law of the mighty Colonial Establishment of Tsi Ko, far away from where any bright-eyed bureaucrat or unwitting official might think to wander, existed a group of rooms that only a handful people within the city knew of. One was the Governor of Tsi Ko, his title being bestowed by Sozin the great and passed down from generation to generation, and another was the Governor's Magistrate, his title being bestowed upon him by the Governor. The third and forth persons to know of these rooms and what occurred within them were the two guards that had escorted Kree from the custody of the men whom had arrested her, finally leading her to a single small and damp room lit only by a single flickering torch. The fifth person to know about the existence of these secret rooms, of course, was Kree.

Naturally she did not realize she possessed this knowledge—she couldn't tell where exactly she was, even if she was asked. She sat upon a roughly hewn wooden stool before an equally rough wooden table and empty chair, utterly oblivious to the secrets permeating the stones that surrounded her, deaf to the whispers and intrigue that the walls had witnessed—and completely fuming with indignity.

For not the first time in her life, Kree found herself tossed headfirst from her own element (which was always sketchy at best) into, somehow, the worst of all possible circumstances. What was unique about this particular instance, what had thrown her off usual willingness to accept and adapt to the flow of events, was that, for the very first time since—Kree wracked her brains—well, _ever_—

She was completely and totally without blame or blemish.

From the time when she was still quite small, Kree was used to getting in trouble. A high tolerance for reprimands and scoldings (and very often times, punishments much more severe) was the natural result of living life on the fringe of society, and disapproval and distrust came with the territory.

Because of this, Kree had developed early on an excellent knack for concealing whatever unsavory deed she deemed necessary, as well as a well-adjusted sense of how to cope whenever she was caught. While she no longer (or not as often) participated in the sort of activities she did as a child, Kree found that these skills had left her very well prepared her for the sort of unpredictable and very often troublesome life she had chosen for herself.

However, they left her grossly unprepared for situations in which she was entirely innocent. She was incensed, prickling at the injustice of it all.

By the time the Magistrate entered the room, she was ready to let loose the most scathing and bitter insults she could think of—but that small shred of bravado distancing herself from the gravity of her situation all but evaporated when she saw the Magistrate's face.

He was obviously a man used to being taken very seriously. His severely lined face betrayed no humor, or even any hint that he had even smiled before in his life. Though his form crooked slightly with age, his robes were stiff and impeccable, as though existed in such a state of order and precision there was never any possibility of a wrinkle or stain.

He swept to the desk before Kree and sat down in the chair behind the wooden table without looking at her once. Still ignoring her, he pulled a single long candle from the inside of his sleeve, and as Kree watched, fascinated in spite herself, twisted his fingers over the wick and lit it into a small, brilliant prick of light.

"So…it appears you are in a serious bit of trouble, young lady," the man finally said, placing the candle in the very center of the table. His voice was dry and slightly raspy, and it crawled over the stones in the walls like a lazy reptile.

"It…might _appear_ that way, but I'm certain that it's not the case," Kree said, keeping her voice light and unassuming. "After all, this is just a big mistake."

The man looked up at that, almost in surprise. He studied her face with keen eyes (Kree could now see how sharp they were, in the candlelight), and Kree felt the muscles in the back of her neck tense up. "….Hm," the Magistrate finally said, in a tone that was neither affirmative nor encouraging.

He continued to look at her unblinkingly. "You were found at an extremely suspicious time of morning in an extremely suspicious part of town, with suspicious objects on your person, and you happened to be," he said, emphasizing the word 'suspicious' each time he said it, "in a very suspicious situation." Kree was determined not to flinch. "Do you know what this makes you?"

"…An unfortunate victim of circumstance?" Kree guessed hopefully.

The Magistrate looked at her flatly and blinked, his eyelids dripping with disdain.

If there ever were a time to lie out her case, it would be now, Kree decided. "It was a misunderstanding," Kree continued with more confidence in her voice. "I realize now that it was a very easy mistake to make, what with how it looked, but I can explain everything—"

The Magistrate closed his eyes and held up a wizened hand to stop her. "Young lady," he said, almost kindly, "there is no need for me to hear your explanation. It is of no consequence to me what happened or how you came to be there. Having heard what my officer reported, it is plain to piece together that you had nothing to do with that soldier in the alleyway."

"Oh," she sighed in a rush, instant relief spilling over her. Even though she knew she had done nothing wrong, the tension growing in the darkened room had been getting to be too much. "_Thank_ you. You never know when you go to a strange place if anyone will…listen…."

The Magistrate was smiling. It looked odd on his face, as though he wasn't used to doing it often. "Don't thank me too quickly," he said. Kree felt a sudden drop in her stomach, as though something very unpleasant had just happened.

It was the smile, Kree realized. The Magistrate looked like he never smiled once in his life not because it was true, but because—the thought struck her suddenly—because he only ever smiled at things that made other people flinch.

"After all," the Magistrate continued, his smile twisting, seeming to take a life of it's own, "you'll be going to prison for the rest of your life regardless."

* * *

The Magistrate, for all of his information and influence, had made several hasty mistakes that morning. He had incorrectly assessed a very important matter, had forgotten something equally important, and had overlooked a very obvious possibility. The thing he had incorrectly assumed was that Kree was alone and wouldn't be missed—and if she did have allies, as his spy's report seemed to indicate, they consisted merely of a disgruntled burnout tavern owner and one drink-addled old man, and was therefore not a threat.

The thing he forgot was the fact that there was a sixth person who knew of the underground chambers, and what occurred there.

* * *

Perfect silence. "What are you talking about?" Kree finally asked, voice tense.

The Magistrate's smile was curling like a crazed worm, eyes glinting. "You realize by now, young lady, that I am a very important man. And Tsi Ko is, of course, the most prosperous of the Fire Nation's colonies."

"Gee, I dunno about that," Kree said, with a show of mock consideration. "I've heard about this one place where they make tiny starved children dig out coal with their fingers, while their parents work everyday to rebuild their houses, just so the soldiers can burn them down every night. It's hard to top misery like that."

The Magistrate stared.

"_Oh,_ you said _prosperous._ I thought you said _evil_." Kree said cheerily as she shrugged, rolling her eyes at his stony expression. "My mistake. Where you're from, those two words mean the exact same thing."

The Magistrate glowered for a moment, and then his face turned bland. "You may think to surprise me with blatant displays of disrespect," he said, "but I know your type. Blustering and bold until the chains come down, which will be soon enough, I assure you."

Kree sighed, tired beyond belief. "Look, I don't care why you brought me here," she confessed. "Misunderstanding, you were feeling bored—just, whatever, I'll get over it. But I have one thing I came a long way to do. Tonight, and that's it. And then I'm gone. I'll never come back here again—I'll never go to _any _Fire Nation colony ever again, I can _guarantee_ that."

The Magistrate raised one wispy eyebrow. "Very eloquent. But I'm afraid I can't. You see, the very reason why you have chosen to enter my…_prosperous_ city is exactly why you have been detained."

Kree was suddenly very aware of the heavy stone walls and the thick wooden door. "You have no idea why I came here." The Magistrate, no doubt noticing the way Kree's eyes had flicked to the door, smiled even wider.

"Then perhaps I shall guess," he drawled. "By your manner and speech it was clear to see that you are an outsider here in Tsi Ko. It's just as easy to have you monitored and followed, until it was simple to deduce that you planed to attend a certain…Grand Ceremony." He made a point to look her in the eyes, mockingly. "Impressed?"

"Ah…." Kree squinted thoughtfully. "Not _really_, because you didn't actually guess, you were spying," Kree said, "which is, by the way sir, a very _prosperous_ thing to do."

The Magistrate's already thin lips were pinched quite tight. "A man like myself has many resources at his disposal, you see. The eyes and ears I have placed within all of Tsi Ko are very…sensitive. They report to me, in greatest detail, everything they hear and see…in an alleyway…in a tavern…"

While saying this the withered man watched her closely, face composed and calm. Only his fingers, which jerked like dry twigs in the wind, betrayed any emotion. But when Kree looked him in the eye as she realized what he must have heard, she saw it for an instant: hatred as thick as bile shone from his rheumy eyes, and his mouth curled up as if he were ill. She disgusted him.

Kree recognized that look. No matter how far she went, it always caught up to her.

"So what do you want with me?" Kree remembered Pano's warning, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edges of the stool.

"You see, there are certain standards that must be met every time something of such great importance occurs within my city. There are appearances to be kept up, safety measures to be followed. You are not unique in your predicament. You are not the only poor soul these walls have seen," he continued, gesturing to the walls encasing them.

"So far you've done a lot of pointless jabbering and not a lot of explaining," Kree said icily, finding a sliver of the old, bitter anger and clinging to it for dear life. If she could get angry enough, maybe she could forget how quickly she'd turned four years old again when he'd looked at her like that.

He raised his other wispy eyebrow. "You're hardly in a position to be—"

"You better tell me what this is all about or you'll pay for it, if I miss what I came here for," Kree all but snarled. It was noting but brazen bluffing on Kree's part, but the malice was real and sharp, and the Magistrate dropped his smug expression for a few seconds.

"Your more _earthy_ pedigree reveals itself," he said finally, disgust pooling at the down turned corners of his grimacing mouth. Kree glared at him and sorely missed her ironwood staff.

"But, I take your point. What use is wasting words on one such as you? I shall make it clear: my superiors expect a certain amount of…tangibility. They desire proof that when the focus of the Fire Nation is on us, I am performing my duties in keeping order by detaining those that would threaten it. Namely, any Earth Kingdom riffraff ready to cause trouble at one of our Nation's most grand occasions…" He leaned forward over the candle, his face a waxy, ghoulish mask. "Do you take my meaning?"

Kree swallowed. When she spoke, her voice was held all the focused tension of a compressed metal spring. "You snatch people off the street and take their lives away from them. You do it for nothing but yourself, because you can, and because you like it."

The Magistrate sniffed. "Have they not schools in your parts? I just said it is a duty of mine as—"

"A load of steaming Buckox dung," Kree interrupted him, eyes blazing. Her hands were trembling with anger. "You're a disgusting sham."

The Magistrate's paper-white skin grew paler, then flushed an amazingly vigorous shade of red. "You dare—you dare—"

The wraith in his eyes was terrible, but Kree met it without flinching; her wraith was worse still. "If you're so powerful and mighty, why bother coming down here in person? I've met people like you. You like knowing you can end someone. You like to watch them crumple." She was practically spitting her words; they cut through his sputtering protests like steel into paper. "This isn't about what other people want, is it? You just like it."

The withered man stared at her for a long moment, with something akin to amazement on his face. Finally he chuckled. "For an Earth Kingdom mongrel, you display an unusual amount of insight," he said with relish. "But you're wrong. I have someone to handle these affairs for me. It is only in cases such as yours I feel the need to…crumple."

"Cases like mine?" Kree asked rigidly.

The Magistrate's face became hard and cold. "Tell me…did you come here entertaining the notion that a decorated, honorable soldier of unparalleled renown as a member our Nation's greatest warriors…could possibly even want to _acknowledge_ the existence of an abomination like you?"

The words he taunted her with slid into her heart like an oiled knife. Those words hit far too close to home, and the buffer of righteous anger that shielded her before dissolved.

"Of course, it's all very touching," the Magistrate drawled. "In a base, unthinkable kind of way. But really, I'm doing you a service. This way you're spared the shame and--"

"It doesn't matter what he thinks of me," Kree had gone pale, but her eyes burned with a dangerous, foolhardy gleam. "Even if he denies my existence…I'll still find him." "You won't stop me."

The Magistrate was dumbstruck, and then began to laugh. If he was a man who seldom smiled, he laughed even less; he sounded like a punctured accordion straining for air. His face twisted up as the cruel sounds puffed from his thin mouth.

And it was then, as Kree looked down that she realized the Magistrate's third mistake—something he had overlooked. For the room in which she and the Magistrate were in had been designed to stop sound from escaping, and both guards were outside the door, which was very, very thick. And Kree had remembered that in the inside of her left boot, she carried small, but very sharp dagger.

Kree leaned forward on her stool only so slightly and brushed the handle of her knife. In the midst of his wheezing laughter the Magistrate did not even blink.

However, what Kree would have done with this dagger not even she knew—nor would she ever find out, for at that very moment, the door swung open to reveal the sixth and last person to know of the secret underground chambers of the colony of Tsi Ko.

* * *

His girth nearly filled the entire door, Kree thought absently. He was old, but far more healthy-looking than the Magistrate; there was a dim shine to the tuft of hair that hung from his chin, and his eyes were clear and sharp, a golden yellow. He wore fine robes that, unlike the ones the Magistrate wore, hung loosely and simply off of his large frame. He too wore a topknot, but on him it looked more like a casual afterthought than a symbol of affluence. Oddly enough, the man also wore a large, curved breastplate that seemed to mold around bulging stomach.

After a moment of surprise the Magistrate had risen from his chair on shaky feet. "General," he breathed. His dull eyes were wide with awe. "I—I had not expected—"

Kree had tensed. Was she...being only half Fire Nation really such an offensive thing as to warrant a Fire Nation General at her…what was this? A trial? A sentencing? An…execution? Very carefully keeping her arm movement from both the men's sight, Kree slowly pulled began to pull out her dagger.

But then the General deliberately ignored the Magistrate's babbling to turn and nod in her direction. She'd expected him to ignore her, or to see something akin to the Magistrate's disgust in his eyes—and was thrown when he smiled at her. It was a small smile, reassuring and amused, and completely sincere—or Kree couldn't read human expression. She thought for a moment, and then hesitating only slightly, released her grip on the knife.

"Please excuse my intrusion, Magistrate," the General said, bowing slightly (at this, the Magistrate flushed purple and bowed so spastically Kree thought he would throw out his back). "But when it came to my attention that a family member of one of my former soldiers was being detained—due to a simple misunderstanding anyone could make, I'm sure—I knew I had to come myself to see it corrected."

Kree quickly glanced at the Magistrate. He looked a great deal more confused than even Kree felt. It took him a long time to answer. "Ah…Very good, sir, but, ah…" He nervously wet his lips. "I—I am afraid you have been misled. This girl has no legitimate claim to…to anyone in the 33rd. She—she has no name, my sources tell me, just a wild story containing nothing but sentimental drivel, and a few scavenged trinkets. It's clearly a ploy on hr part to infiltrate our ceremony and attack from within."

Kree felt very much like telling the Magistrate just where he could put his sources, but the General spoke up first.

"But the young lady has no need to infiltrate the Ceremony, Magistrate. She has been invited to attend in the company of one Pano Guo Li, a decorated lieutenant of the 33rd who served under my command." His expression was puzzled, and his voice was politely confused, but there was slyness in his eyes that spoke otherwise. Kree must have caught his eye, for he noticed her watching him and gave a discreet wink. Kree found herself liking this man immensely. "It is an invitation which I too extend."

The Magistrate sputtered. "My Lord…my informants tell me that she—that this girl is a gifted liar. She manipulated Guo Li until he caved to her wheedling cajolement!"

"She certainly did," the General smiled cheerfully. "I witnessed it for myself as I sat next to them in the Singing Dragon earlier this morning."

The Magistrate's jaw dropped. "Does everybody spy on everybody in this place?" Kree muttered to herself, sounding impressed despite her annoyance. The General chuckled.

"You were there in…in a sty such as that?" The Magistrate looked like he might faint.

"True, it leaves much to be required in terms of a relaxing atmosphere, and I have had better tea," the General admitted. He glanced very pointedly at their stone surroundings. "But I do find the Singing Dragon far more preferable to the establishments you frequent, Magistrate."

The Magistrate blinked rapidly, and seemed to come back to himself. "Surely sir, you must have been tricked like Guo Li to sanction this—this farce—and I'm afraid that as Magistrate of Tsi Ko, I must insist that—"

"Magistrate…" the General interrupted somberly. "Are you suggesting that you surpass me not only in authority, but also in intellect…?"

The Magistrate's face seemed to fall in on itself.

"No," said the Magistrate, barely audible. "N-no sir, your Lordship, I never meant—"

The General held up a hand to stop the Magistrate's babbling. "We will be going now," he said simply. He nodded courteously to Kree, who rose from her seat, feeling equally elated, apprehensive, and a little astonished.

As she approached the General as he stood waiting by the door, she stopped and looked more closely at his face. It was weathered, but kind, and the General smiled again, as if he expected her curiosity. The smile made the myriad of tiny wrinkles circling his eyes—honest, warm eyes—raise and stretch. If her choice were between this man and the sour, stammering bundle of sticks shaking behind them, she'd take this one.

So she smiled slightly in return, and hardly believing it was happening, set her hand on the door handle to leave. And it was then that the Magistrate cried out desperately:

"But my Lord! The girl is a shame to our nation, a bastard child—!"

With a frightening speed, the General turned towards the Magistrate, a thick arm extended before him, two fingers from his hand pointing directly at the Magistrate's chest. The Magistrate beheld those two fingers with absolute terror.

Behind the General, Kree could not see what the Magistrate saw: the grim eyes, glinting and lethal. But she heard a soft power in his voice, like steel wrapped in silk. "The only thing here which makes me feel the shame you speak of so ardently, Magistrate," the General said quietly, "is how a worm like you can so easily thrive under the skin of the earth that I must walk upon."

And with that, the General calmly folded his arms, bid the Magistrate good day, and the both of them left the small dank room behind them, leaving the once commanding Magistrate alone as the candle sputtered out.

* * *

Getting out of the secret chamberways of Tsi Ko took much less time than entering them had, for it seemed that in no time at all Kree was out in the open again, blinking in the sun. They now stood in a small courtyard, filled with dusty willow trees that swayed sickly in the breeze.

Kree uncertainly turned towards the General, who was just behind her in exiting a small stone door partially hidden by the sway of the willow leaves. "I'd think I'd like to thank you," Kree said, "but I've fallen into this habitual rut where I think a tricky situation is resolved and then it turns out to get worse."

"I respect your caution, and your foresight," the General said, busy adjusting his robes with cheerful aplomb. "I have a nephew who I often think could benefit from both. But I give you a solemn vow: you are safe."

Kree gave the man a considering look. She really didn't remember him at the bar. "If everything you said in there was true, did Pano send you?"

"I'm afraid Pano would never ask me, let alone send me for anything," the General answered, sitting down on a nearby bench. "He is quite stubborn. But yes, I interfered for his sake, as well as yours."

The sun, bright but still muted by the overcast sky of clouds, suddenly shone through into the courtyard. The General closed his eyes and sighed deeply as another breezed rattled the brittle willow leaves, clearly quite content. Moments passed as he remained unchanged, leaving Kree standing in the center of the bright stone courtyard, wondering at the thoughts running through her head.

This man didn't look like a general at all. He looked… soft. Grandfatherly, maybe. The sleepy smile he now wore as he basked in the sunlight was only half of it, Kree realized. He'd made the Magistrate tremble with nothing but his presence, and had his way with nothing but two extended fingers.

Yet, Kree also felt a strong compulsion to like him. This man was sharp, and quick, and very powerful, but Kree could tell: he was also a lot of _fun_. And if what he'd said back there hadn't been a lot of bluff, then he was her ticket into the Grand Ceremony and she was that much closer to finding her father.

When it seemed like the General was never going to open his eyes, she softly cleared her throat.

The old man blinked, and smiled. "Forgive me," he said. "The sun shines so infrequently in this smoggy city. I forgot to mention that Pano should be here to meet us."

"Then…I think I'll thank you now." Kree found a matching stone bench directly opposite the bench the General now sat at, so they were now roughly eye level. "Thank you for pulling me out of the fire, sir."

The General gave a hearty chuckle. "It was my pleasure…may I call you Kree? I did overhear that that was your name."

Kree half grinned. "Sure. I haven't overheard your name yet, though."

The man chuckled louder. "Most would call me General Iroh," he said. "But I am retired now, and I think I would just prefer Iroh. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said, bowing his head.

"Well, it was a pleasure seeing you scare that twit half witless, sir," Kree replied, copying his formal tone and bowing in the same manner.

"I can see why Pano took to you so quickly," Iroh said, eyes dancing. "Speaking of Pano, I must say I was very impressed with the way you convinced him to help you."

Kree paused as she felt the tiniest twinge of disappointment_, _followed immediately by the assertion she should have known better. "I guess I'm lucky I'm such a good manipulator."

"No! No, that wasn't what I meant at all," Iroh exclaimed hastily, sounding genuinely alarmed at the possibility of insulting her. "You understand people, otherwise you couldn't have appealed to Pano's sense of charity, malnourished as it is. It is a rare skill indeed."

Kree just looked at him. The old man kept her stare for a while, but finally closed his eyes as he gave a deep sigh. "You are truly skilled," he conceded, "for sensing the intent behind my compliment. No doubt you realize I am about to ask you for something."

"It's not like it's hard to guess. Everybody wants something," Kree said somberly, meeting his eyes as he looked across the courtyard. "But...favors are messy. And for trying to play it safe as I could, so far I've gotten myself into a staggering amount of trouble."

"I understand," Iroh said, nodding respectfully. He stood from his bench and bowed to her, much more slowly to indicate 'farewell'. Kree started; she'd been half-joking with him. If she was honest with herself (a trend she hoped wouldn't turn into a habit) she knew she really wasn't that concerned with staying out of trouble, and she owed him already, and certainly liked him. But someone as powerful as a Fire Nation general, actually giving her a choice and then _respecting_ her refusal...?

"—Business transactions," Kree blurted out. Iroh stopped and regarded her curiously. "Business transactions, however, are much neater. So I suggest" (and here, despite herself, she couldn't help but smile at Iroh's amazed face) "that we wait for Pano a bit longer, find a place that serves breakfast, and I will listen," she concluded, smartly, "to your business proposal."

Kree would forever remember that moment as the first time she had ever took the Dragon of the West by surprise. His eyes lit up before his face gave way for a hearty, bellowing laugh, as sudden and full as Pano's. It was then that Pano found them, grinning like old friends. When Pano's expression changed from anxious to extremely irritated at the sight of their relaxed company, they only smiled harder.


End file.
